


The Ninty-first Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [91]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Ninty-first Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Ninty-first Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The Sentinel and its universe don't belong to me or to those who wrote the tidbits. So, the usual "no infringement, no money being made, etc." applies. I think we all know that one! Also, I didn't write anything in this particular file, all I did was put 'em together.  


* * *

Rating: the whole range  
Pairings: J/B (mostly!) 

* * *

Tidbit #1 

ObSenad: 

Shit. It was like having a dog. A little, overactive, yapping and _shedding_ dog. 

24/7. 

I mean, there was hair everywhere. In the sink. In the shower. On the furniture. In the food, for crissake's, even when he _didn't_ do the cooking. 

And how in the hell did _his_ hair get on my clothes? On my shirts, on my jackets... hell, I even pulled hair out of my wallet. Someone tell me how _his_ hair got in _my_ wallet? And we won't even discuss work. The year 2000 isn't going to cause any problems with my computer, it will have already died. Of hair strangulation. 

And how in the fuck do you explain to Assistant District Attorney Beverly Sanchez, _why_ she is pulling out long, curly strands of brown hair, (brown and gold when the sun hits it just right and brown and red gold other times) of a brief I gave her after taking it home and reading it? 

And you know damn fucking well that Simon is sick and tired of pulling hair out of his coffee cup. Why just the other day he said, "I'm fucking tired of pulling hair out of my coffee cup!" 

See? 

And don't think I don't know what's really going on here. The real problem. Oh, yeah, I know _exactly_ what the problem is. I'm _not_ pulling hair out of my bed. Or my mouth. _That's_ the real fucking problem. I should have hair all over my pillows, tangled up in sheets, on a pic on my dresser, I should be able to make mad, passionate love to him and pull long, beautiful strands from my mouth. 

And the other real problem? I _really_ want to know if his pubic hair feels different than his chest hair. And does his chest hair feel different than his head hair? I taped up his ribs once, actually got to _see_ that gorgeous chest hair, but I was a good little sentinel, didn't touch. 

Maybe I should suggest a new test? The hair test? Would he fall for it? Um...couldn't hurt to try. 

I _really_ need that hair in my bed. Still attached to the body wouldn't hurt either. 

allison  
(Note: This bit was expanded into a full blown story which can be found at: <http://internetdump.com/users/k9/Hairy.htm>

* * *

Tidbit #2 

ObSenad  
Unspeakable Things 

They were fighting again. Jim was angry and had been grumpy for weeks now. Blair called it his _evil stepfather-mode_. Finally, he'd had enough of being on the receiving end of Jim's anger. 

"Tell me right now - what's up? What's all this shit about? Or I'm gone \- for good!" Blair yelled angrily. 

Jim paused for a moment and Blair could tell that the older man had come to a decision. Jim took a deep breath and said forcefully, "I want you! I want to shove my hand down your pants and never let go. I want to taste your salty flesh. I want to bite the soft skin of your groin. I want you to scream my name in passion!" 

Jim glared at him boldly. Blair was deeply shocked, this was not what he had expected. He stood up and walked over to the kitchen table as if in trance. He sat down with his mug and then covered his mouth with his hands. 

Jim had fantasies about him. Fantasies about having sex with him! Maybe tying Blair to the bed and having his wicked way with Blair's helpless body. Shoving his dick anywhere he wanted; in Blair's mouth, in his ass. Blair moaned and shivered. 

He looked over at his friend, who was still sitting on the sofa, staring at him stubbornly. He realized that Jim could just walk over and grab him, cuff and gag him. He could drag Blair into his room and lock the door. And in there Jim could do unspeakable things to him and nobody would ever know. Blair moaned again. 

He felt dizzy. This is awful!!! I'm thirty years old and I discover I'm a pervert and Jim has the starring role. Blair looked back at his friend, who still stared grimly at him. Resistance is futile, Blair thought and grinned. 

Blair stood up and walked back to the sofa, shedding his clothes as he went. When he stood in front of Jim he stepped out of his boxers and spread his arms invitingly and submissively. 

"Do with me what you want!" he breathed hoarsely. 

Jim looked as if he was going to faint. 

"Please!" Blair whispered. 

Jim stood up abruptly, grabbed Blair, pulling him into his room and locking the door behind them.... 

Angelika ;-)  


* * *

Tidbit #3 

Disclaimer: The Sentinel characters doesn't belong to me. This was beta-read by a friend of mine, Lady L. 

"Jim! You're home early!" Blair gushed, his eyes over-bright. Jim raised his eyebrows in question. 

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't?" 

At his answer, Blair shook his head emphatically. "No! Of course not! What makes you say that?" 

Looking at Blair's overly excited demeanour, Jim felt his heart turn cold. What was Blair hiding? Could Blair have changed his feelings now that he got to know him better? Was he trying to think of a way to let him down gently? Besides, it had already been 3 months since they got together, which set a new record in Blair's history of relationships. And Blair _had_ been acting very strange lately... 

"Jim? Jim?!" Blair's voice broke into his train of thought. Jim looked up at him inquiringly. 

"What's wrong? You've got a funny look on your face..." 

"Nothing, I was just thinking...well, I'm tired, I would like to shower  &...what's this?" Jim asked in a stunned voice, as he gestured toward the kitchen, which he had finally noticed. 

The place had been decorated in such a way, that the word 'romantic' came to mind. 

Blair blushed. "I wanted to give you a surprise...but then... you returned early... so..." He shrugged uncomfortably. 

"Chief..." Jim said, touched. Reaching for Blair, he said warmly, "Thank you." He suddenly felt guilty about his traitorous thoughts earlier. Having someone love him so much would require much getting used to, he decided. It will just be my little secret, he thought, as he proceed to show his appreciation... 

thym  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

ObSenad 

_Thump - crash_

"Chief?" 

When there was no answer, Jim crossed the living room to the double doors that marked the boundary between Blair's office and the rest of the house. What he saw there made him pause. Never, in the three years that Blair had lived there, had he ever seen the small room look so disorganized. 

"Blair? What the hell is going on in here? It looks like a cyclone hit - repeatedly." 

"Huh?" Looking sheepishly at the mess around him, Blair shrugged, only saying, "No need to remind me about the house rules, I'll clean up as soon as I find the book I want. I read this great review, and I wanted to re-read it, and see if I missed something the first time, or if the guy is totally off his rocker." With that, he went back to rummaging through the cardboard box at his feet. 

Looking at the mess, then back to Blair, Jim noticed that the exertion had caused Blair's skin to take on a rosy glow, and that there was a faint sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. His curly hair was even more tangled looking than usual and several strands had slipped from the loose ponytail to frame frustrated blue eyes. A dusty smudge on the end of his nose completed the picture; it was the smudge that made Jim start to chuckle. 

Without looking up, Blair asked, "What's so funny, big guy?" 

"Oh nothing - I can think of better ways to raise a sweat, is all." 

Leering up at his partner, Blair replied, "Oh really?" 

"Yeah...c'mere and I'll show you." 

Throwing the book in his hand over his shoulder, Blair bounded forward, and into Jim's waiting arms. Placing a wet kiss against Jim's mouth he asked, "Promise?" 

Heather  


* * *

Tidbit #5 

Jim came back to the smells of heating peanut oil and boiling noodles. Stir fry. Cold weather comfort food. He took the stairs -- he'd spent too much time inactive today: driving, sitting still in court, giving testimony, driving home. 

"Get lost on your way back from Seattle, Ward?" Blair said without looking away from the hissing chicken pieces he stirred in the wok. 

"Traffic. Couple of errands. How was your day, June?" 

"I'm still mulling my options," Blair said easily. 

Which meant he hadn't left the loft today. The place did look neater than normal. Someone who was used to pulling a double-shift now didn't know what to do with all that free time. Maybe it was only now sinking in that Blair no longer had classes for which he must prepare, exams to grade, lectures to write. 

Jim cleaned up for dinner and returned to see Blair ladling the steaming mass into two bowls on the table. "Still thinking about the offer?" 

"That's one possibility. If I can get my head around Mom _giggling_ when Simon mentioned guns." Blair shook his head. "Telling you, Jim, that creeped me out." 

"I've heard nervous laughter, Chief. That one buried the needle." Jim kept his own voice as casual and serene as he could; Blair wasn't angry at his mother over this, and God knew the man had every right, so Jim would keep a leash on his own anger at Naomi. It had been a cold, grim pleasure to sense her pain when she finally realized what she'd done to her son. Not much of a loss, just his life's work. 

Jim picked up his chopsticks and dug in, silent for a long time. Soy, ginger, garlic, sesame oil. He was ravenous after a long day in court broken only by a stale sandwich and shameful coffee. His nose itched as Blair sprinkled a little chili oil over his own offering. "Chief, you just saved my life." 

"That's my job," Blair said. He said the words lightly, but not carelessly \-- he meant them. The same calm eyes that had watched Zeller fall to his death met his. 

Light, but not careless. That's how Blair had been since the press conference. Detached from the wildness whirling around him, even during Klaus' fire fight in the station. Serene as a Buddha. It was as if he'd been unburdened by losing everything. But that couldn't be right. 

Jim looked around the loft. "I keep waiting to come home to piles of broken glass or plates. When it finally sinks in." 

"Been there, done that. Don't think I didn't know you were listening in that night." The night after the press conference, when Blair had spent the entire night holed up in his office silently weeping. He had been pure Buddha since then. 

"You had it all in your hands, Chief. All of it. You had the brass ring." 

Blair's annoyed glare at Jim changed to confusion. It was clear he knew Jim wasn't guilt-tripping himself for Blair's decision to protect his friend with a career-destroying lie. "We've _been_ through this, Ellison. My decision, my choice. You'll notice no badasses shooting at us during dinner, a major plus I'd say. Brass is a cheap crappy metal. How many times do I have to repeat this?" 

"Still, I thought I should replace it. I was the reason you threw it away." 

And Jim set a small black box on the table between them. 

Finally. Looked like Buddha had been hit with a 2-by-4 between the eyes. Blair gaped. He looked at the box, looked at Jim. Jim responded by looking away as if bored, as if his heart wasn't going 60 in a 35 zone. 

"Jim, you _can't_. Your career--" 

"It's my turn to put up or shut up, Sandburg. Open the damn box." 

He heard Blair pick it up. The tiny creak of the hinge. The tiny, broken sound from the bottom of Blair's throat. 

"I know they're not brass," Jim added offhandedly, and tapped his fingers lightly to hide the tremble. "They didn't have any brass ones in the shop--" 

"Shut up," Blair whispered wetly. "I didn't lose _anything_. _Anything_. I had it all, here. You. Here. I have it all. I still do. Now gimme your fuckin' hand or I'll deck you." 

Jim grinned, blinking hard -- hell, he could always blame the chili oil if he watered up a little -- and turned back to the poleaxed man sitting across the table as he had for four years, as he would for the next four decades, and proffered his left hand for the second time in his life. 

It was shiny and yellow; it wasn't brass. A perfect twin to the one gleaming on Blair's finger. 

\--end-- 

Jane M.  


* * *

Tidbit #6 

It was a rather boring afternoon for a day off. Last week, Jim had looked forward to it. He'd planned on spending the day in bed with Blair to worship and devour his lover thoroughly. But yesterday, Blair had told him he had to grade papers. 

Being understanding despite his own plans, Jim had chosen to turn this into a lazy day on the couch. So, he could at least be near Blair and maybe sneak in a kiss or two, hopefully. Jim had even bought a couple of new magazines which had captured his interest. Now, reading them, he noticed an article he found odd... 

"Hey, Chief! Is there something you didn't tell me about?" Jim looked over at Blair who was sitting at the table, the papers spread all over it. 

"No, why?" 

"C'mere and look at this..." 

"All right." Blair walked over to the couch. 

* * *

'The SCI-FI Channel plans to air Curse of the Blair Witch on July 12, a one-hour special that examines the myth behind the upcoming feature film The Blair Witch Project. The Blair Witch Project is the fictional account of three students who disappear after traveling to Burkittsville, Md., in 1994 to shoot a documentary about the local legend of the Blair Witch. 

The independent film, which earned the Youth Prize at the 1999 Cannes Film Festival, was picked up by Artisan Entertainment and will make its theatrical debut on July 16. The Curse special will investigate the back story behind the Blair Witch myth, with archived news footage, passages from the Blair Witch Cult book, and other material.' 

* * *

It was always a joy for Jim to watch Blair devouring a book, and, this time, even with the small article he'd found, it wasn't any different. The further Sandburg read, the more different his facial expressions became. 

"You gotta be kidding, man! I never heard of a cult with my given name on it. There must be a whole set of values around this..." Blair stopped when he noticed Jim's hands sneaking under his shirt. Aside from that, he'd ended up half sitting, half lying on the Sentinel's lap, Jim's face close to his. A rush of warmth ran through Blair and suddenly Jim's mouth found his. 

Minutes later, both of them slightly breathless, Blair said softly, "You did that on purpose." 

"Yep." 

"I still have to continue grading." 

"I know. But a break or two in between can be fun." 

"No argument from me, man." And before Jim could make another comment, Blair began kissing him again. 

The break lasted quite a while longer, but Blair still finished grading before he and Jim went to bed... 

Manuela  


* * *

Tidbit #7 

(In response to Tam's question about SenToo, pt. 1 and campus security) 

Author's note: In memo form, of course, thinking of the campus cops I've seen in action: 

TO: Blair Sandburg 

FROM: Joe Schmoe, Chief Campus Police 

RE: Your Recent Death 

Mr. Sandburg, 

While I appreciate your distress over your recent death at the hands of a deranged woman on the grounds of the Rainier campus, I would ask you to understand that we are a small police force and cannot be everywhere at once. 

At the time of your unfortunate encounter, our patrol officer was issuing citations for parking violations in front of the library. I am proud to say our fine officers wrote no less than six citations by the time your partner's spirit animal arrived on the scene. 

We would like to be able to meet everyone's needs, but unfortunately, we must prioritize. We appreciate the Cascade PD's intervention, as we have not yet received budget authorization for a rescue spirit animal, though one has been requisitioned. 

In closing, we hope you are feeling well now, and would appreciate it if you would forward payment to us for the numerous parking citations issued to the blue and white '69 Ford that is frequently illegally parked in front of the Anthro building to pick you up. 

Thank you. 

Candy  


* * *

Tidbit #8 

Re: Jim dropping his gun 

Blair was sitting quietly on the couch, trying not to disturb his partner, who had already gone to bed. Suddenly he became aware of a string of softly muttered curses coming from above. 

"Shit!" 

"Damn it!" 

"Ha! got you this time!...crap!" 

He called up, "Jim??" 

"What!?" came the annoyed reply. 

"You okay?" 

There was a moment of embarrassed silence. 

"Yeah," Jim finally replied unconvincingly. 

Blair got up and ascended to the upper level. He found his partner naked in a drool-inducing sprawl on the bed. 

"You sure?" 

"I...uh..." 

"What's wrong?" 

"Well, I...uh...I was trying to jerk off." He stopped, his face glowing red. 

"And...? 

"I...Damn it! I keep dropping the damn thing!" 

Regina  


* * *

Tidbit #9 

"Shouldn't eat that, Jim." 

Jim gave Sandburg his 'don't nag me, dear' look and continued to enjoy his Wonderburger. 

"Your body is a temple." Blair's eyes indicated just how much he enjoyed the worship sessions. 

Jim took a long drink of Coke. "Chief, you sound like Sister Edward Frances. She caught me sneaking a smoke behind the P.E. shed when I was a freshman. She said 'Mr. Ellison, your body is a temple!'" 

"And?" Blair said. 

Jim grinned. "I said, 'Well, I'm burning incense.'" 

Author's note: Actually a joke by Judy Tenuta (another great ex-Catholic comedian, along with George Carlin, Dennis Miller, Cyndi Lauper..) 

Jane M.  


* * *

Tidbit #10 

"Sandburg! Knock it off!" Simon roared. 

Blair looked up from the report that he was reading, "What? What did I do?" 

"Don't try and pull that innocent stuff with me." Banks turned and stalked back into his office. 

Jim hid a smirk as he subtly readied another rubber band and looked for a new target. Left flank, all clear. Right flank, Blair's reading the report, all clear. Jim prepared to fire his missile at his new target, Megan, when he heard a voice whisper Sentinel soft. 

"Don't you dare. What's up with you, man? Been sniffing my catnip tea again?" 

Jim glanced at Blair in astonishment as Blair continued to concentrate on the report. The faintest of smiles wafted over the full lips. /How does he do that?/ Jim wondered. 

Madeira  


* * *

Tidbit#11 

Jim frowned and glared at the computer screen -- the look that worked so wonderfully well on the criminal underbelly of society seemed to have no impact whatsoever on the inanimate object. He glared harder. He snarled. 

Blair watched the mime taking place across the room, biting the inside of his cheek until he couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. "Whoa there, Jimbo. You're gonna stroke out if you keep up all that hostility. What's the problem?" 

"I can't do this. I told Simon I couldn't do it and I meant it. He should have listened to me. I'm can't and he _can't_ make me! I _hate_ being Cop of the Year!" 

Tipping his head to one side, Blair puzzled over the childish tirade coming from his lover. Childishness and Jim were often synonymous, but outbursts like this were not. "So -- what is it you can't do?" 

Jim dropped his face into his hands. "Hemmupwhs a schps...bafaphsc...ishimthfy." 

"Developing a new language, are we?" 

Jim's head snapped up and he focused his icy gaze on Blair. 

"Ha-ha, very funny, Sheckey. I said -- he wants me to give a speech at the next academy graduation ceremony." 

"Ahhh, and that would be horrible, right? Standing up in front of a bunch of excited new graduates, telling them that they've done well and why they should be proud of themselves?" 

"That's it exactly. I gotta write this speech telling a bunch of kids that being a cop is a great thing. Like the public won't love them for the ten minutes that they need them and resent the hell out of them the rest of the time. That they'll have no trouble adjusting to having terrible schedules that will play havoc with their sleep patterns and family lives..." 

"I'm hearing some unresolved issues here. What's brought all this on?" 

"Stop trying to analyze me, Freud. Wasn't it you bouncing off the walls last week when I was pulling doubles? Wasn't it you who bitched non-stop through our last twelve hour stakeout?" 

"Yes it was. But you're missing the point entirely, Jim. Why is it you put up with all that crap?" 

"Your bitching and moaning? Well -- " 

"No, smartass. Why is it you put up with all the bad things that come with being a cop?" 

"Because that's who I am! I'm a cop; it's my job. To serve and protect, Sentinel of the Great City and all that." 

"Exactly. So why should they put up with it?" 

Silence. Blair wriggled his eyebrows at this lover and grinned. "Cat got your tongue?" 

"Nope. Just thinking." 

"And..." 

"What makes you so freakin' smart anyway?" 

"One of us has to be the brains in this outfit. Two knuckle dragging Neanderthals would be way too much, don't 'cha think?" 

"I'll give you Neanderthal, Sandburg." The Sentinel smiled evilly as he stalked across the room. 

"Jim -- it was a joke. Just a joke!" Blair skirted the dining room table and made a dash for the door. He was caught before he'd taken half a dozen steps. His breath went out in a whoosh as he was thrown over Jim's shoulder in a classic fireman's carry. 

"You think I'm a caveman? Fine, let's head for the cave." Jim took the stairs two at a time, hardly fazed by the weight across his shoulder. 

Blair was silent. What could he say? It wasn't like he had planned this particular outcome. Was it? 

Virginia V. 


End file.
